First Truths

Fall

The door to the balcony slid open with a near-silent rasp, and Tuxedo Mask stepped inside. He looked down at the girl who was curled up and trembling in his arms. For the first time in the last ten minutes, he allowed himself to think -just think- about what had happened today, what could have happened, and all the implications. . .and he started trembling himself. To keep the girl in his arms from noticing, he set her down on her own feet and patiently waited until her knees solidified beneath her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice strangely neutral in cadence.

She didn't seem to notice, too embarrassed to look up. "I-I think I made a mess on your cape."

He leaned forward, not quite sure he'd heard correctly. "What?"

"Ithrewupalloveryourcape," she muttered, blushing beneath the green coating of goo.

He blinked once, twice, before his trembling increased with the need to laugh and cry at the same time. "It's okay," he managed, "it'll be clean by the next transformation."

"Oh." She cast a discreet glance at him. His face and hands held traces of the slime that covered her completely, but, otherwise, his suit had taken the brunt of the punishment. She, however, was coated irreparably. She grimaced in distaste, wondering how he had even brought himself to touch her in all her icky splendor. Yet here she was, in this perfect apartment, wondering just what exactly he was thinking behind that perfectly composed face and knowing that at any moment the hysteria would hit and she did not want him to witness her weakness. Right now she was hanging on by sheer will alone but soon the whole event would catch up to her, as it always did when she came so close to death, and she would be a blubbering idiot.

It was not, she was sure, something his beloved princess would ever do, so she refused to further lower herself before his eyes.

"Umm, look, could I possibly borrow your shower? I really have to get rid of this junk," she asked.

How can she be so calm when she came so damn close to dying? How could she disregard her promise so easily! He raged internally.

"Sure," he replied calmly, no hint that inside of him something was screaming. He politely pointed towards the bathroom door.

"Thanks," murmured Sailor Moon and scurried into the room before it was too late. She slammed the door shut and locked it, then finally let her knees collapse so she could huddle on the floor, hugging her legs and shaking viciously as tremor after tremor wracked her frame. She gulped impulsively as her throat closed up, then gagged at the feeling of the slime that would not disappear.

Suddenly, the most important thing was simply being clean again. She dropped her transformation and hurriedly took off her school uniform before it could become soiled by her own skin. Then she was in the shower, water turned up as hot as she could stand, and scrubbing furiously at the viscous gel that clung stubbornly to her skin. A flashback sent her reeling, forcing her to slam her palms against the cold tile walls as she staggered. The feeling of choking, of drowning, was a building pain that scalded her insides as her body consumed its last breath and then began to fight her for oxygen that was no longer there. It all came back to remind her how close she had come to dying.

One day she wouldn't be lucky enough to cheat death. Her parents and friends. . .she'd be lost to them all.

The sobbing followed. Secure that the sound of the shower would drown out her tears, she let herself slide down the tiled wall to weep her fears away.

Tuxedo Mask's fists clenched as he watched her walk away. He felt as though he was a hair's-breadth away from insanity, and she had just walked quietly into this bathroom as if it were any other day for her.
Hell, maybe it was better this way. After all, why should he be so upset about her close call if she obviously had no problems dealing with it?